Chapter Two
“Girl, when was the last time you went shopping?”
Tammy flicked through the dresses in my closet, the hangers slamming together with a resounding slap of plastic on plastic. We were supposed to be having a girls’ night in, watching a movie, pigging out on junk food, and slathering our face with chemicals and masks, but somehow it had turned into a game of Critique My Wardrobe.
“Last week,” I said defensively.
“And what did you buy?”
“Why? Does it matter?”
“Oh, honey, it matters.” She made a face and a disapproving noise as she lifted a dress for a closer view, then shoved it away. “Answer the question.”
I hesitated.
Tammy turned from the closet and placed her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised.
“A briefcase,” I said.
Tammy raised her eyebrows at me. “A briefcase. Seriously?”
“I needed it.”
“For?”
“Work.”
Tammy made a sound of amusement. “Maybe you ought to start thinking about other things. Life isn’t just about work, you know.”
“Thanks for the advice, oh wise one.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“What sort of things should I start thinking about?” I asked sarcastically.
“Dating, for one.”
I sat down on my bed. “I have,” I pointed out. “And all the dates I’ve been on sucked. Every guy I’ve seen is either a loser still living at home with his parents waiting for his internet start-up to take off, or a workaholic who’s going to end up cheating on me with his secretary in a few years.”
Tammy scoffed. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
I shrugged.
“That’s your problem.” Tammy gestured at me. “You think too much. You’re always dissecting whether he’s the one for you, what sort of job he has, how many kids he wants.”
I snorted. “I’m lucky if my dates have a job.”
“You don’t give them a chance. You just judge them. You judge all over their faces before you even sit down at the dinner table. You forget that the point of dating is to have fun. You’re single, girl! Enjoy it while you can.”
I groaned.
I hated being single. I missed the security of being in a relationship. Of knowing that after a long day at work, I could go home to someone who loved me. Who would be willing to listen to my complaints and scoop ice cream into my mouth, and maybe smooth away the tension with a nice romp in the sack.
I missed having someone to attend work parties with, knowing that my weekends wouldn’t be lonely, that I didn’t have to sit in a dark theater by myself.
Most of all, I missed reaching across the bed and feeling the warm, hard muscle of my man, right before I drifted off to sleep.
“Here’s what you should do,” Tammy said, not even noticing that this was about the last conversation I wanted to have. “We’re going to take your credit card, go buy you a slinky dress and some hooker heels, and we’ll hit the clubs later tonight. How does that sound?”
I let my breath out slowly. “I hate clubbing, Tammy. You know that.”
“With that kind of attitude, how do you think you’ll ever find a man?”
I rolled my eyes. It was so like Tammy to get like this, all preachy and know-it-all, as if she had exclusive rights to my life decisions. It had been like that for most of our lives, ever since the first day we’d met in kindergarten. We knew we were destined to be friends forever.
I loved my best friend, but at times like this, when she was lecturing me and nagging me about things, I hated it.
“I found someone,” I muttered under my breath, my stomach clenching painfully, despite my promise to myself not to think about my ex-boyfriend. “He just didn’t want me.”
Tammy turned around and made a sympathetic face. “Come on, honey. That’s going to bring you down.” She crossed her arms. “Besides, if that loser would rather sleep around with a bunch of sluts than commit to a real, sophisticated woman like you, he can go to hell. Good riddance is what I say. What you need is a rebound. It’s the best cure for a break-up.”
I didn’t respond. I felt like I was starting to repeat myself with Tammy. I didn’t want a rebound—I wanted a stable relationship with a supportive, mature man. Someone who would love me, not just sleep with me and leave in the morning before breakfast.
I had what I always wanted with Bryan.
At least I thought I did, until the day he slept with another woman. There was no way I was going to share my man with another woman. We’d broken up, he’d moved out, and that was that.
Now, months later, I was still alone.
It wasn’t exactly a clean break-up. There had been arguments that lasted into the night. More than one innocent lamp was involved during the action. Afterwards, Bryan had tried to blame me for all the failings of our relationship.
I had been too needy, too clingy, too demanding. I’d expected too much from him and overwhelmed him. I led him to cheat on me.
Bullshit.
I was done with all of it. I didn’t return any of his calls or emails, and eventually he got the hint.
“Have you even been trying to meet anyone?” Tammy asked.
“The other night at the club was not successful.” I sighed. “And online dating sure isn’t working. I feel like such a creeper, reading through all these dating profiles and judging them from behind a screen. At least on a date, I can be honest and judge them to their face.”
Tammy went back to my closet, grabbing a dress at random. “You still have the price tag on this one,” she said. “It’s cute. You should wear it on your next date.” She pulled it completely out of the closet. “Damn. Seriously, why haven’t you worn this?”
“It’s too fancy for a casual date. I think I bought it for Bryan’s and my anniversary. We were going to go to Vegas. We broke up before we could.”
Tammy frowned at that. “Where else have you been looking?”
“For dresses?”
“No, silly. A man.”
I shrugged.
Tammy gave me a meaningful look.
“Well,” I said, stalling. I knew Tammy wouldn’t back down unless I gave her some sort of a lead. “There was this one guy.”
Tammy’s expression brightened. Her eyes widened. “What guy?” She abandoned the dress, shoving it back in the closet. “Where did you meet him? Did he ask for your number?”
“This guy...” I said slowly. And then a face appeared in my mind, with shocking light brown eyes and sexy lips that refused to smile. “Was in the elevator.”
“Oh my God, I love elevator sex.”
I laughed. “We didn’t have sex. Wow.” I coughed. “You must have an amazing sixty second pitch.”
“You know it,” Tammy said, jutting out one hip dramatically. “Tell me about this guy. Come on, quit stalling.”
“He lives here in the building. He moved in a few days ago, and I nearly tripped over one of his boxes.”
“Was he cute?”
I nodded, pressing my lips together. “So cute, I was tempted to give him my sixty second pitch.”
Tammy sat next to me. “Which apartment did he move into?”
“Across the hall,” I said, wondering if I was now taking this exaggeration too far. I knew Tammy would never back down without a direct answer. “4B.”
“No way.”
I nodded.
“That’s awesome. You should go over and talk to him.”
I shook my head.
“Why not? You said he was cute and obviously you made an impression on him. This is perfect.”
“I didn’t make an impression on him.”
“He sure made one on you.”
“I don’t want to hit on my neighbor.”
“Why? It’ll be the most convenient relationship ever. Think about it. You’ll always know when he’s home, you’ll never wonder about what he’s doing, and when you move in together, it’ll be right across the hall.”
“And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be stuck trying to avoid my neighbor for the rest of my mortgage.”
“You haven’t even talked to the man yet, and you’re already thinking way too far ahead.”
I rolled my eyes. “You were the one just talking about us moving in together.”
Tammy ignored me. “Quit analyzing things. Just take him some cookies or something. Who cares if you happen to be wearing one of your sexiest outfits, wearing some damn high heels and looking like you’re ready to party.” She clapped her hands together. “You can wear that awesome dress.”
“What dress?”
“The one you were going to wear to Vegas with Bryan. It’ll be perfect.”
“Tammy, come on. I can’t wear that dress and deliver cookies.”
“Why not?”
“You know why. Because I bought it to wear with Bryan. I can’t wear his dress to hit on another man.”
“Bryan is in the past, sweetie. It would be a shame for you to let that dress die without achieving its true glory. Imagine—that dress was designed by a great artist. Sewn by the capable, loving hands of a seamstress.” She looked down at her spread fingers as she talked. “And made and priced and marketed exactly for someone like you. Someone who’s waiting to get it on with the perfect man.”
I laughed. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
Tammy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That dress needs to be worn.” She beckoned with her hand. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“It’s about time we bake some cookies and welcome your new man to the neighborhood.”
“He’s not my new man,” I said, but Tammy was already walking out the door. “He’s not!” I tried again.
“Don’t care!” Tammy shouted back.